


Coda: An end, and a beginning

by shetlandowl



Series: My Known Unknown [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, True Lies (1994)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 14:24:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10220237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shetlandowl/pseuds/shetlandowl
Summary: A honeymoon, interrupted.





	

The salty seaside breeze wove through the lush grape vines and the laden fruit trees, spilling in through the open windows and doors to fill the warm villa with a crisp reminder of the sun setting beyond the horizon. Tony peered out the nearest kitchen window to see if he couldn't spot Steve on the terrace, only vaguely aware of seeing him step outside some time ago. 

Eventually he picked up the plate of crostini and various cheeses and marmalades they had brought home from the market earlier that day and padded out of the villa to see where his husband had gone off to. The marble stairs and terrace was built in the same white Tuscan marble as the villa, effortless in its elegance and beauty. The Villa Impero had once been the home of the 19th century Barons Monti Della Corte, built into an outcropping on the island of Capri with a dramatic view of the ocean from nearly every angle. 

But Tony didn't find Steve in any of the couches or chairs where one might have enjoyed the sunset, or anywhere else in the first floor gardens; putting the plate aside, he picked up a single bite of cheese and crackers and continued down the stairs, following the sun-warm marble stone road down to the lower tier where the stairs faded into the plunge pool. 

There, on one of the submerged steps with his back against the smooth pool tiles, Steve had found a perfect compromise between the warm, salt water pool, and the pleasure of a book. Tony didn’t announce himself or otherwise signal for Steve's attention, but instead enjoyed this less than typical scene of Steve so completely engrossed in a book that he had forgotten the world around him. It had been years since he saw Steve so peaceful and calm, and Tony found himself mesmerized by the sight. 

“Open,” Tony said softly with a smile, and Steve, unthinking, opened his mouth. Tony leaned in closer, kissed his cheek, and fed him the morsel of cheese he had brought down. Steve hummed in thanks and chewed without looking away from the page, until the repugnant, consuming stench of the cheese caught up to him and he hacked and coughed it up, spitting the revolting food up in his hand. 

“Tony!” he gasped, horrified, glaring at his cackling husband who, clearly, was now laughing too hard to save himself. Steve threw the remains of whatever he had eaten into the garden and discarded his book on the terrace floor before lunging at Tony, bodily lifting his husband off his feet and throwing him into the water. 

Moments later Tony reemerge in the deep end, laughing even as he scraped the water off his face. “You should have seen your face,” he crowed, but his shit-eating grin calmed down to a smile, and whatever else he was about to say was forgotten as he simply watched Steve stalk after him into the deep end at a much more leisurely pace. 

“God, you’re fucking gorgeous,” Tony murmured, all pretense forgotten, and he raised his arms when Steve was within reach, eager to wrap him up around his body again. “How did you get this lucky?”

Steve laughed against his cheek, bending at the knees to take a firm grip of Tony’s ass through his sopping linen trousers and lift him up, guiding those willing legs around himself. “Who knows,” Steve mused, nuzzling the soft skin behind Tony’s ear. “Seven years ago all I wanted was some light reading for my mission to Bogota, but instead I picked up the most handsome man I’d ever met.”

“So smooth,” Tony purred, grinning down at him from his happy perch. “Except, didn’t you tell me you were going on a conference in LA that week? You did.”

“Well,” Steve drawled, effortlessly carrying Tony out of the pool and back towards the house. Tony moaned at the casual display of strength, a feat he was still unaccustomed to (and quite delighted to witness). “What is a conference if not… a gathering of hard-working professionals from similar fields defending their sides?” 

Steve paused on the top terrace to shift Tony around, supporting Tony’s weight with one arm as easily as with two so he could pick up the tray of food, too. Tony smiled and picked up one of the bites for himself. “Babe… what was it really?” He asked innocently enough before treating himself to a bite of the cheese and marmalade. 

“Intervention in a hostage situation,” Steve answered easily, only pausing to pull the door to the villa shut behind them with his foot before padding across the polished, peacock blue tiles back to their bedroom. “A drug cartel had kidnapped President Santos’s daughter for leverage in international arms trade negotiations in South America, but we got her out.”

“Of course you did,” Tony said with a sigh, watching Steve’s face wistfully. “While I was locked up in my lab finishing grad school, you were busy saving the world. Way to put my life in perspective for me, _Captain_.” 

But Steve knew him better than that, and he grinned mischievously at Tony's prickly facade. “My uptown genius... MIT’s own prodigal son. How does it feel to be the kept man of an art school drop-out from Brooklyn?” He teased, setting the tray down at the foot of the bed before putting Tony gently down on his feet. Steve knelt in front of him and slowly unzipped Tony's pants, peeling his husband out of the sticky-wet red linen with care. 

“Don’t remind me,” Tony pouted, holding on to Steve’s shoulder to steady himself. “I really liked that you were a curator.”

“I know you did,” Steve said quietly as he pulled the pants down Tony’s legs, nuzzling his naked hip at the first opportunity. He pressed a chaste kiss to his inner thigh, then his knee, until Tony stepped out of his only item of clothing. Then, to Tony's added frustration, Steve balled the wet pants up and threw them into laundry bin several dozen feet away on the far side of the attached bathroom. 

“One in a million shot,” Tony grumbled, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you. All these years… all those lies. How many pick-up games did you deliberately fumble? You couldn’t be Captain America on the court just once?”

Steve tried to resist a grin, he really did, but when he finally stood up again and saw Tony’s sincere disappointment, Steve couldn’t help but laugh in his face. “Tony! The serum isn’t for—no, Tony, I’m not going to help you beat people unfairly at _friendly games of pick-up._ ”

“Then what good are you,” Tony grunted and huffed, and he was promptly shoved backwards onto the bed for his trouble. “Steve!”

“Babe, you’re not thinking clearly,” Steve hinted in a playful tone as he kneed his way onto the bed after him, brushing kisses his way up Tony’s body, over his abdomen, his heart, his throat, until he finally reached his husband’s lips. “There are more important benefits to the serum than winning in basketball,” he added in a teasing sing-song. 

Steve eased himself down on top of Tony, hip to hip and chest to chest, lazily licking into his mouth with a hum of satisfaction. Instinctively, Tony wrapped his arms and legs around Steve’s body to draw him down closer, his eager body undulating up to meet him inch for inch. “Shhh—babe, babe: less talk, more lube.”

With a huff of disbelief, Steve pulled his head back to break away from the kiss, a feat made more difficult by Tony’s insistent grip on his hair. It took some effort, but Steve soon managed enough distance to give Tony a skeptical look. “You—Tony, aren’t you sore? This morning—that was _hours_ , I don’t think—”

“Oh my god,” Tony whined and cupped a hand over Steve’s mouth to shut him up. “When I say more lube, I mean more lube. It’s all I’ve tho—”

A series of loud, assertive knocks on the front door echoed through the house in a tragically serendipitous interruption. 

Tony sucked in a breath mid-word and he frowned in the general direction of the door before looking at Steve. “No.”

“No?” Steve asked innocently even as he slid down Tony’s body and sucked a bruise into his hip on his way off the bed. 

“Eight best years of my life!” Tony yelled after him, “I gave you them, and you’re leaving me?”

Steve laughed, but didn’t stop or turn back. “I’m just answering the door!”

“Naked?”

“I do my best work naked!” Steve called back just as he opened the front door and swung it wide open. But the person waiting on the doorstep sobered him up in a heartbeat, and several tense Mississippis passed before Steve could force himself to clear his throat and at least acknowledge the man. “Coulson.”

“Agent Stark, if you please—”

“Whatever it is, it’s not my problem,” Steve interrupted him. “I’m on vacation.”

“Not you. The other Agent Stark.”

As if summoned, Tony appeared around the corner with a pillow held in front of him to preserve his tender modesty, and he walked up behind Steve to see who it was in a hurry. Well concealed behind Steve’s bulk, Tony quickly smacked the pillow over Steve’s erection and held it firmly in place. 

“Agent Stark—”

“—we are going to have a serious talk.” Steve rumbled at his husband, but Coulson spoke over him. 

“We believe we are closing in on Stane. We recognize that you were unreachable—”

“ _Are_ unreachable,” Steve corrected irritably. “Coulson, I swear—”

“Steve, let the man speak,” Tony said in his most reasonable voice. 

“—but your involvement appears now to be necessary.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Steve tried to say, but Tony rubbed the pillow over Steve’s hard cock and cut him off with a strangled groan. Then, from over Steve’s shoulder, Tony smiled at Coulson. “Keep talking, Phil.”

“How do— _nggh_ ,” Steve bit down on his lip to stifle another groan, latching on to the door frame and desperately trying to keep his hips from reacting to Tony’s gentle stroking through the pillow. 

“Quinjet’s waiting,” Coulson told Tony, making a point to ignore Steve and his current predicament. “Pack what you need; we will not keep you long.”

Tony perked up immediately, and he pre-emptively gave Steve a squeeze through the pillow as he felt his husband’s body preparing to display his Argumentative Shoulders; Steve’s complaint was immediately forgotten and he thrust into Tony’s hand instead. 

Safe from Steve’s resistance, Tony to continued smiling at Coulson and asked, “Where are we going?”

“Lyon,” Coulson replied in a voice that approached croaking. “We are operating alongside Interpol in this case.”

“France!” Tony cheered and turned to Steve with a bright grin. “What do you say, babe? A quick get-away to France? Suck my dick, put Stane behind bars, pick up one of those calendars with the nude rugby players?”

“Two calendars,” Steve eventually grunted, struggling to catch his breath. “Pepper, she’ll want one.”

“Good call,” Tony agreed with a thoughtful hum, and he nuzzled at Steve’s shoulder before making an executive decision. “Fifteen minutes.” 

“Thirty,” Steve growled, and as one they reached for the door and slammed it shut in Coulson’s face. 

*** 

“Damnit, Steve, don’t bogart the crossword,” Tony complained from his husband’s elbow, shoving at him when Steve wouldn’t give the paper back. “How do you even know who Shrek is?”

“You weren’t the only one waiting around all those years,” Steve told him around the black pen he was chewing on thoughtfully. Then, with clear disdain, he flicked the paper and whined. “‘Disapproving king’? What does that even mean?”

“It’s Clinton, he thinks he’s funny,” Tony soothed, shuffling closer on the bench to look over Steve’s shoulder. “Try Tut.”

Steve wrote it in, but then, recognizing that he was unable to answer any others at the moment, he handed the paper back for Tony’s turn. “What do you think of 41 down? NYC?”

“Bronx, Queens, Harlem, Brooklyn, Manhattan,” Tony counted off without thinking. “Why not?”

Steve settled against Tony’s side and got as comfortable as he could on the bench they had commandeered in the back of the quinjet, far enough from the other SHIELD operatives to give them some privacy. He watched with grudging admiration as Tony filled in one answer after another in his own blue ink, increasingly impressed with every answer Tony fit in. “Is there such a thing as too intelligent?”

Tony glanced at him with a smirk. “I’ll let you know when I get there.” 

Apropos of nothing, Steve cleared his throat and in a more careful voice asked, “Tony, could you put that down for a minute? There’s—I thought we would do this later, but …people.” 

Confused, Tony blinked at him, but he wedged the paper under his thigh on the bench and looked at Steve with an unvoiced curiosity. “Because ...people?” 

“Well, uh,” Steve stammered for a moment, then quickly shifted in his seat to fish something out of his jean pocket. “Before we… rejoin the world. I wanted you to have—I mean, it’s not what you had before, it’s nothing—actually,” and he got no further than that before Tony reached for Steve’s retreating fist, one hand holding him by the wrist and the other gently rubbing at his tightly clutching fingers. 

“Steve,” he murmured softly, “hey, it's okay. Trust me.” 

With less hesitation, Steve relaxed his fingers and opened his hand to reveal a simple golden ring in his palm, well polished and cared for. 

“It's my mom’s,” he explained quietly, watching Tony sweep his thumb across the band in reverence. “It's all I have left of her. It’s all—I have some things, you know, army things, but this is… this is from my family. And,” he cleared his throat again, “and I know it's a woman’s ring, and—and it's only brass, and you deserve the best money can—but ...but it—she pawned her ring for this one,” he rushed to explain in a whisper. “I was sick, it must have... I think she thought I was dying. So she pawned it for medicine and food, and—” 

Steve’s words ended abruptly when the knot of emotion lodged too high, too firm, in his throat. Tony watched without saying anything at first, then instead he gently closed Steve’s fingers back into the protective fist around his mother’s ring and pressed a soft kiss to his fingers. 

“Steve,” Tony tried again, wrapping his hands protectively around his husband’s, “I love you, but shut up. I mean, by all means—if you don't think I will cherish it, that it won't mean more to me than anything but you, keep talking yourself out of it. But you'd be wrong.” 

With obvious suspicion, Steve eyed him critically, as if hoping he could tell if he had offended Tony in some way with such a cheap band. “You would?” 

“It’s actually physically painful right now, a little bit, that you're making me wait like this,” Tony told him in feigned impatience, even giving Steve’s larger hand a firm, pointed squeeze. “Or do you want me to put it on myself? I can. I will.” 

“No!” Steve quickly closed his hand around the ring again, then held out his free hand in an unspoken request for Tony’s left hand, which Tony wasted no time giving him. Steve bowed his head over Tony's hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles, then a second, more lingering kiss to his ring finger, before straightening and slowly, almost in disbelief, placing the ring on Tony’s finger. 

The ring was a little too small and it caught on his second knuckle, but Tony pushed forward before Steve could hesitate and forced it on. It fit, but only just, snug around the girth of his finger. 

“I love it,” Tony admitted as he admired its place on his hand. “One day I'll be offended that you thought I'd say no just because it's brass and not 'a man's ring,' but—right now? I can't believe you'd share this with me.” 

“You are everything to me,” Steve reminded him in a fierce whisper. “Now, you have everything of mine.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you ever feel like a Stony chat, [I'm on Tumblr (as shetlandowl)](http://shetlandowl.tumblr.com/) more often than I should be.


End file.
